


The Games We Played

by FleetSparrow



Category: Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy - John Le Carré
Genre: Canonical Character Death, M/M, Missing Scene, god it's just so fucking Romantic isn't it?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-09
Updated: 2016-11-09
Packaged: 2018-08-30 00:23:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8511604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FleetSparrow/pseuds/FleetSparrow
Summary: The last moments of a broken love affair.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Another fic that I totally thought I posted six months ago when I actually wrote it. I need to stop doing that.

Bill Haydon sat on the left side of the appointed bench looking onto the Nursery’s cricket field.  Jim must already be waiting for him -- Jim never took chances when he could avoid them -- probably moreso now -- but as another minute passed, Bill almost began to worry that Jim was not coming after all.  Maybe he still couldn’t stand that Bill hadn’t come to see him in all this time.  Or perhaps Jim was just giving him a moment’s peace to come to terms with himself.

A soft but identifiable footstep sounded behind him.

“There’s my Jim,” Bill said softly.

A moment later, Jim Prideaux sat down heavily beside him, setting a bottle of vodka between them.

“I'm set to leave tomorrow,” Bill said, in lieu of a greeting.

“I know.”

Jim uncapped the bottle and took a long swig.  “Why?”

Bill shrugged.  He knew Jim’s question wasn't about his leave.

“I never meant for you to get hurt,” he said.  “That was never part of the plan.”

“Was it.”

This time, Bill took a drink from the bottle.  It made him nostalgic for their Oxford days.  Like Zeus and Ganymede, sharing a kiss with the lip of a cup, a private moment in public places.

“Control was getting too close to discovering me.  But you know that.”

Jim took the bottle back.  “You were the one I was sure of.  You made me sure of you.”

“I know, love.  I know.”

They sat in silence for a few moments, only passing the vodka between them.  Finally, Bill looked over at Jim with sad eyes.

“Give us a kiss, Jim.  For old times’ sake.”

Bill had expected Jim to hesitate -- he had hoped he wouldn't, but with everything between them... -- but Jim just set the bottle on the ground and leaned in to him.

Jim’s left arm was still a strong as Bill remembered as it wound around his neck.  Jim *felt* the same as they kissed, even after so much time and… history.

“Come with me,” Bill whispered against Jim’s lips.

Jim stilled.  “No, Bill.”

Bill pulled away and laughed.  “I think that's the first ‘no’ you've ever said to me.  Oh, well.  I knew it wasn't any good.  Kiss me again?”

In their final kiss, Bill wondered for the first time what could have been if life had been different.

Ah, well, such is the game.

With the lingering taste of Jim on his lips, Bill sat back against the bench.  Jim’s hand was hot and heavy on his neck.

“Oh, Jim.”

He knew what was coming, had known since receiving Jim’s message -- which was now destroyed, of course.  And despite it all, Bill couldn't think of a better end.  It was so classically Romantic.  To die in one's lover's arms, _of_ one’s lover’s arms.  Well, for whatever value of lovers they were anymore.

Bill Haydon closed his eyes, the image of Jim’s face burned into his mind, and relaxed into the pressure and single snap.


End file.
